


Emma Swan's Excellent Adventure (in the Evil Queen's Pants)

by anamatics



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, POV Female Character, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamatics/pseuds/anamatics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma has an idea, an itch that she's wanted to scratch for a while.  Probably with Regina as suddenly it seems like everyone else is either her mom or off the market.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emma Swan's Excellent Adventure (in the Evil Queen's Pants)

**Author's Note:**

> *** Underage warning is merely discussed, there is no underaged sex in this story, just wanted to make sure that it was there. ***

When Emma Swan was sixteen, she met a woman who asked her the sort of question that she would come to absolutely despise in later life. It was the kind of question that was designed to both make her feel stupid, inadequate, and unworthy, all at once. She was a kid who had grown up under horrible life circumstances, an orphan who could never quite find her place. To be asked a question such as that one was to be insulted at the highest order. 

She and her new-found companion (the insufferable bitch who had asked the question) were sitting in a coffee shop. Emma was wearing baggy jeans out to here and a flannel that was two sizes too large for her – the outfit was fashionable, but out of place with the crowd here. The juxtaposition of herself and her companion was not lost on Emma as she sipped the coffee she'd paid for with the last of the change in her pocket from her last job. Jobs. That's what these were called now-a-days. 

Emma Swan knew that she was good at exactly two things: finding people, and getting into trouble.

"Tell me, have you ever had a woman?" Ms. Business-Suit-Prep-Bitch asked her in a mild and somewhat disinterested tone. Emma felt her cheeks burn a harsh red color that looks out of place and probably a little bit more embarrassed then she was actually willing to let show. 

No. 

Emma had not.

"Let me show you how it's done, then."

*

Twelve years later and there are two things that Emma Swan is good at: women and finding people. She's a goddamn phenom at both of them. 

The work follows her no matter where she goes. She works with police and lawyers, tracking down criminals - she's always around high-powered attorneys and the occasional judge. She's able to charm them easily, because she knows what they like. Their type is so easy to figure out, and a few well-placed words and they're eating out of her hand.

Emma has one rule and one rule only. Before they submit to her, she must submit to them - to let them know the power of what they are giving to her.

She takes them expertly, pulling their hands above their heads and holding them there with silken rope. She curls their bodies upwards, pushing breasts forward and upwards, her lips trailing downwards. Maybe she's far too accustomed to this now.

Maybe she's beyond good at it.

*

Having sex with Regina Mills had really not been part of her plan, at least not initially. Although Emma knew just by looking at her that the sex would be outstanding, there are certain boundaries that have to be carefully maintained else the entirety of the careful rules she based her life upon would go out the window. Still, the woman is a mess of pent-up sexual energy, her entire body full of tension that Emma simply longs to relieve. 

Sure, she's cocky, but she's been paid for the relief she brings before and she's certainly not above offering it for free. Mostly she just likes to have sex with women, no matter the circumstances.

Women, you see, are easy. Far less complicated than men. Emma's been off the pill since she's come to Storybrooke and she's already experienced the ill-effects of missing even one month of the stuff. Planned Parenthood had had a shortage and Neal had promised that he'd be careful.

Henry and a year in juvie had proven that he had not been even remotely careful. Dick.

Not that Emma's still mad at him or anything.

Fucking asshole.

Regardless of this fact, it remains to be seen if Regina would actually go for such a thing. She’s got her oh-so-dykey power pantsuits, but honestly, Emma gets a really straight vibe from her that Henry only further confirms with a tale of woe and dead boyfriend and an absolute cunt of a mother.

So basically, Emma's really not that into sex just for the sake of having sex. She'll do it, because sometimes there's that itch that simply must be scratched, but the people in this town make it really hard to just sleep around. They're all up in each other's grills all the time and while Emma's sure that Ruby or even Mary Margaret wouldn't be opposed to messing around, she doesn't want to upset this careful balance she's found with them. 

For the first time in her adult life, she has _friends_. Real, actual, genuine people who care for her and don't want anything from her.

No, if Emma's got an itch (which she really, really does) she's going to have to scratch it somewhere else.  
August is an option, but then again, August has always been a stubbly option wrapped in mystery and smelling distinctly of wet leather and slight b.o.

Then again, the pill problem. 

Let's just say that Emma's been burned once and doesn't particularly wish to repeat childbirth. Ever.

So that leaves very few people that are actually available that Emma finds even remotely interesting and attractive. Kathryn Nolan has occurred to her as a viable option, especially since Mary Margaret is totally sleeping with her husband anyway and wouldn't that just be cute. But Emma quickly dismisses her every time because, really, she's not that horrible a person and neither is Kathryn.

So that leaves the Mayor. Or one of the nuns. So really just Regina, because there is something that’s just _wrong_ about banging a nun.

Emma has spent far too much time contemplating how best to do this.

*

Turns out that they don't actually get a chance to until well after the fact that it's all gone to hell and Emma's totally grossed out by the fact that she sort of considered having sex with her goddamn terrifying-ass (not to mention painfully straight) mother.

Henry, of course, is smug as shit about this. He was right, he's living the dream, and Emma's just spent almost a month without a proper shower or a change of clothes. She's choosing to ignore him or else choice words might be said.

She finds Regina sitting in her back garden after she's gone home and taken an hour long shower and burned that fucking tank top that she was wearing while fucked off in fairytale land. Her clothes are clean, her sneakers are comfortable, and her charm is up to eleven.

"Hey," Emma says, and Regina looks up sharply, her fingers twisting into something that Emma can't quite figure out as Emma stands underneath the apple tree that she's already maimed once this year. Regina's got some sort of green paste covering the place where the branch she sawed off had once stood. The tree seems to be doing well, so that's something. It’s bearing fruit that look absolutely nothing like any goddamn apple Emma’s ever seen.

Must be somehow magic, Emma’s staying right the fuck away from that.

"Ms. Swan," Regina levels her with a gaze that could peel paint and Emma feels like her tongue is covered in sandpaper. Why she thought this was a good idea is completely beyond her. "What are you doing here?"

Emma pulls a leaf off of the apple tree and slowly shreds it. She's not really sure why she's afraid to say this, the worst Regina can do is say no. One tiny bit of leaf falls down to the ground, lingering on her shoe. She kicks it away. "It was wrong of me to take Henry away from you like that," she says eventually. "I'm sorry."

There's a moment then where Regina looks almost like Cora. Her face contorts into this look of pure anguish and hatred that makes her seem decades older. It’s not a good look on her. "I was talking to David..." she begins, lying through her teeth. She'd actually not cleared it with them, but rather with Henry. "Henry wants to come back here. There's too many people in Snow's apartment now and he really, and I mean _really_ misses you."

Mostly because he’s stuck sleeping on the couch now and Emma wants to spare him Snow and David’s five or so rounds a night of reunion sex. 

Regina folds her arms across her chest and her lip curls upwards into a sneer. There's a hopeful look in her eyes too, and it makes Emma long to go to her and promise that everything will come out okay in the end. "Funny, all he talked about when you were absent was how much he wanted you back."

"Kids, huh?" she runs a hand through her hair, scratching at the back of her neck and watches Regina. She knows that she's being watched right back. The former queen is a predator of the highest order. Her nostrils flare out, and her eyes are narrowed. 

Emma wants her.

"Indeed, Ms. Swan." Regina smiles at her, and it's almost authoritative. Emma will do what she wants, unquestioning. She will get down on her knees and kiss this woman’s boots if that is what is desired of her. There is something that is far more telling than Emma’s ever realized about this moment. Regina is a queen, and carries herself like one. She is all haughty looks that make Emma’s knees weak and the tone in her voice is enough to bring Emma off on words alone.

She has to have this woman.

Naturally, this leads to the part that Emma’s always felt she's bad at. She can't just say, "We should fuck," to Regina. Well, she can, but she'll probably spend the rest of her life as poison ivy or a cockroach or some nasty shit. 

Emma slides forward, towards the bench were Regina has kicked off deliciously hot pumps and is now perched in the late autumn sunlight. "I wanted to ask you something," she says, standing before Regina, her body maybe too close to be considered proper. Emma doesn't want proper, she wants something far, far less than proper. 

There's the flare at Regina's nostrils, the darkening of her already dark eyes. Emma's looking for this, looking for a sign that this is somewhat anticipated. She dips down and takes a handful of Regina's blouse, pulling her upwards.

"Ms. Swan!" Regina squawks because that's sort of what she does. Indignation looks great on her.  
Emma doesn't care, however. She makes sure that Regina's feet are under her and then lets her hands travel downwards. 

"I have wanted to do this for a long time," Emma whispers. "But if you don't want to..."

There's a smirk that drifts across Regina's face then, and a raised eyebrow that make Emma think that maybe she's gone about this all wrong. "Hesitation is weakness," Regina points, out, trailing her fingers under the lapel of Emma's jacket.

"Consent is sexy," Emma retorts. 

Regina just shakes her head, and Emma lets her surge upwards into a kiss that is far more about what they're not saying to each other than it is about what they are. 

She tastes like coffee and a little bit like copper. Emma realizes that this is because she's bit her lip, there's a still oozing wound just inside her mouth. She suckles on it, pulling Regina into her, her hands pulling on blouse and tangling in hair. Her mind is on one thing, the sex that she's been fantasizing about since she first met Regina. 

Regina's tongue is in her mouth and Emma realizes that this situation is not at all like her normal conquests. And she will certainly not end up on top for this encounter.

*

Fucking Regina Mills is an exercise in every sense of the word. Emma wants her to get down, to take what Emma wants to give to her and to like it, but the problem with that situation is that Regina fucks like she does. It's about power and not really about sex. Emma sort of hates it, but she pushes Regina down into her plush bed and tries to not rip her shirt.

That idea, of course, goes by the wayside when Regina makes a gesture and fucking vanishes her expensive ass leather jacket.

So Emma rips her shirt open, grinning wickedly as Regina scowls as buttons rattle every which way. "I thought you weren't using magic," Emma mutters as she busies herself with Regina's pants.

"I wasn't," Regina says airily. "But the need to make that _thing_ ," she makes a disgusted face, "go away was too strong."

Emma is going to rip Regina's pants as well if this goddamn zipper doesn't come undone soon. She finally gets her hand in a moment later and her sighs contentedly her entire body shifting forward as she leans in to kiss Regina once more. This is the part that feels easy, the part that's always come naturally to her.

"You always struck me as a dyke," Regina mutters as Emma pulls away to rake teeth and tongue down her neck. 

Emma chuckles at that. "Funny," she says, her wrist twisting forward and up into far too much wetness to allow Regina room for argument. "You always did too." 

And it’s true. Regina is a knot of tension that someone needs to work out, slow and tender. Emma isn’t sure that she’s really into chicks, but she’s certainly not opposed to the idea. Her body is pressing up into Emma, her hips thrusting upwards and god – she’s wet. 

“I’m not, you know,” Regina murmurs, her voice breathless as Emma’s fingers marvel at the wetness that her fingers are brushing against. Emma’s mouth is open against her neck, her skin is salty and tastes like the smells that Emma’s come to associate with magic. She’s bewitching, and Emma wants her even more. 

Deft fingers push past underwear that is so wet it feels like silk instead of whatever expensive lacy thing it actually is. Emma’s smiling, her lips worrying a spot on Regina’s neck, knowing that she’s leaving a mark and trying to picture herself giving a damn. “I’m sure,” Emma say, and pushes one finger in. 

The noise that Regina makes is not of this world. Her entire body seems to curl around Emma, and Emma pulls her hand out and shoves hurriedly at Regina’s pants. “Off,” she mutters, leaning back and pulling Regina’s pants and underwear off in one motion that has taken far more practice than she’d care to admit to learn. 

She shucks off her own clothes in record time and then they’re just… naked. It’s a very different sort of feeling, because Emma’s always got more than one layer of defenses up when she’s around Regina. 

“This is very different,” Emma says, because she can’t think of anything else to say. 

Regina’s lips curl into a shrewd sort of smile and she shifts then, her entire body moving forward with such speed that Emma’s taken aback when she finds herself expertly spun and pushed down onto the bed. This is sex that is about much more than release. This is a power game that they’ve been playing since Emma arrived in Storybrooke, torqued up to a level that is almost out of this world. 

Her hips surge upwards as Regina settles down on top of her. Emma groans loudly as Regina’s feet hook around her thighs and push them outwards as they settle against each other. Her lips are on Emma’s once more, her teeth are there on her bottom lip, biting and worrying as Emma tangles her hands in Regina’s hair. There’s red lipstick smeared across Regina’s cheek as they pull away and Emma tries to roll them over.

There’s a chuckle then, a smile on Regina’s face. Emma scowls and flops her head back, her hands up around her head, tangled in around her hair. They’re open, wanting. She looks up at Regina with half-lidded eyes and gives a slight nod. It’s all the consent to this sort of treatment that she’ll willingly give. She likes to be on top, and in charge. 

This is sex that is purely about power, and Emma knows this. Regina does too, as fingers with too-sharp nails rake down her chest. They linger for a moment, and there’s a glint in Regina’s eye that almost looks mischievous as she tweaks first one, and then the other of Emma’s nipples into hardened, erect peaks. 

“You aren’t fighting this,” She says, her nails biting into the soft skin of Emma’s stomach. 

Emma shakes her head, because this is the moment that she’s wanted. “Sex is about power,” she says. She doesn’t believe that, but it will probably make Regina feel more comfortable. “It’s about other things too – sometimes even love, but most of the time, it’s about power.”

Regina’s head tilts to one side as she thinks about this, and Emma watches her with half-lidded eyes. “Are you saying that you want to give the power that you have over me… away?” Her nails bite into Emma’s stomach then, and Emma flinches but keeps herself remarkably still and open for someone who is facing down what in reality is one of her worst fears. To give up power like this has always been hard for Emma, but she knows that it must happen, otherwise this will not happen – and it’s what they both need.

There is heat pooling between Emma’s legs and she’s fantastically distracted by Regina’s breasts, as they move with her. “Yes,” Emma admits, biting at her lip and rolling her hips upwards. 

Her hands are open, willing and resting above her head. They will not move unless they are asked to.

When that question had first been posed to her many years ago, Emma had thought that the woman who had asked it was simply trying to get into her pants. She lost her virginity at fifteen, and at sixteen she’d truly experienced sex for the first time. Emma had not realized what she had been missing, but had realized it as that woman had worked fingers and tongue inside her, drawing the most powerful orgasm of Emma’s life out of her.

Emma doesn’t like to submit because it means that she’s giving up power. She likes to know the score and to run the show. Maybe it’s just the fact that she likes to give and not to take – she’s never really been able to figure that out and goddamn if Regina keeps doing that with her fingers she will not be long for this world. 

Regina leans down and brushes her lips over Emma’s. Her breath comes hot and heavy against Emma’s cheek as her eyes turn as wicked as the story she’s come out of. She is a wicked witch – an evil queen. “Thank you,” she whispers, and the hand that’s been resting dangerously close to Emma’s center pitches downwards.

Emma groans, air hissing post her teeth as Regina moves her fingers into the wetness that has pooled between her legs. There’s a moment between them then, where Regina marvels at how wet and wanting Emma is and Emma wonders why the fuck she didn’t do this sooner. God, Regina’s got her so turned on that this almost seems like an afterthought, the actual foreplay. She wants Regina in her, fucking her, marking her.

There are not any words said as Emma’s hips jerk upwards into the inquisitive fingers that are slowly tracing a path across her labia. She shaved during her hour-long shower. Her junk is as clean as the day she was born and Emma now thinks that she looks childish – like a girl who’s come to the queen to get taught on how best to be wanton once more. 

In a sense this is the same as the first time, sure fingers and a willing and unrelenting want to take. Emma knows that this is what she wants, more so than anything else. 

“You want me,” Regina whispers, and her eyes are wide. “You want me to have you.”

And then suddenly this is not about sex and power any more. Emma wonders how the fuck she could have possibly missed all of that before. This between them is probably one of the first times that Regina’s ever had a sexual partner that wasn’t somehow non-consensual or forcing her to have sex. This was freely given, and freely taken. 

Emma reaches up and pulls Regina down and into a kiss. It is far more tender than the others that they’ve shared, and Regina almost whimpers as Emma’s hand slides down her back to curl around her ass. It lingers there, just long enough to squeeze encouragingly, before Emma hooks it over her hip and slips her hand down to cup Regina’s sex.

She is wet, so fucking wet. She wants this and Emma wants to give this to her. 

“Do it,” Regina hisses, and Emma slides her fingers back home, the heel of her palm resting firmly against Regina’s clit. It feels good there, she’s so tight and so wet and Emma’s able to move freely inside of her. 

Her fingers curl, and look for that place, the one that she knows will make Regina cry out. This has turned very suddenly and has traversed down a different sort of path than even what it was on five minutes ago. This is how sex works, Emma thinks, sex between equals. 

Regina’s coming undone above her and Emma can’t help but think that this isn’t really how she’d intended for this to go at all. She hadn’t wanted to be the facilitator to Regina’s orgasm, at least not first. She had wanted to have Regina after her own – to take her and to make her realize that this was just a whole big power play.

But it’s not, somehow, they’re just two people and Regina’s grinding against her hand like it’s the only thing tethering her to this world. Her eyes are squeezed shut and Emma’s got a hand up, steadying her as she moves her fingers hard against that one spot that she knows she’s only found because of good luck and a certain experience with women. 

When Regina comes it’s quietly, a bit lip and a whimper as her body tumbles forward and Emma’s hand is trapped between them. She buries her face into the nape of Emma’s neck and groans as Emma slowly works her fingers in and out and in and out. 

Emma lingers for as long as Regina can stand the aftershocks, stopping only when Regina bats at her gently and tells her to quit it. She smiles as Regina sits up and runs a hand though her hair, her lipstick smeared and her eyes a little wide and probably shocked. “That didn’t go as expected,” Emma says, drawing her fingers to her lips and slowly licking them clean. 

“No, Ms. Swan, it did not,” Regina replies, and takes a deep breath. She seems to shift forward once more, bending forward to place a gentle kiss on Emma’s forehead. “But it’s done.”

As the once-evil queen’s lips touch Emma’s forehead, she feels her fingers, still curled almost peacefully on her breast pull away, and then her hands and arms follow suit. Her body pulls against the bonds that have slowly slid into place and her eyes widen. “What are you-” she starts, but she can see the smug and shit-eating grin that’s now settled firmly onto Regina’s face and she knows that she will not get out of this one so easily. Her body is held in place by magic and Regina’s looking far more sure of herself now.

Emma lets her head drop back onto the pillow and grins right back at Regina as her lips blaze a fresh path of kisses down her neck and pause at her collar bone. There’s a bite there from earlier, red and angry and obviously indicative of the sort of fucking that Emma thought was about to go on before she actually started to, you know, do it.

Now Regina’s teeth are worrying at her neck and drawing the blood close to the skin. Emma’s moaning against the touch, her muscles popping against the restraints that hold her steady. 

Sex like this Emma understands. It is good and basic and full of demand and sacrifice. It requires a kind of patience that she’s never really possessed. She bites her lip as Regina’s teeth and lips trail a burning path downwards. They linger on her breasts, biting and pulling still-hard nipples into once more erect points. 

There are no words to be said, and no words are spoken between them as Regina’s lips dip still lower. Her teeth close on the sensitive skin on the inside of Emma’s hip and bite hard and then swirl her tongue over the wound. The pain is good, and Emma sighs and tries to roll her hips forward. Regina’s got her pinned pretty good and Emma’s barely got time to groan her frustration when the lips on her hip push downwards and close with aching perfection over her throbbing clit.

“Gah,” she gasps out, her head rising forward to watch the mouth of her mortal enemy suck and pull at her, driving her already too sensitive body to even higher places.

This is going to be embarrassing. Like teenage boy embarrassing.

Emma bites her tongue and tries to think about dead puppies or some shit just so that she doesn’t come embarrassingly quickly and make an even bigger fool out of herself.

Problem is, Regina’s tongue is amazingly talented and holy shit she’s curling it around her clit and the friction is almost too much for Emma. There’s no stopping it and Emma can’t get away. She throws back her head, her mouth open in a silent prayer and moans, loudly and wantonly. She moans like she’s way more desperate than she’s willing to let on. She moans because it feels so goddamn good and Regina’s pushing her fingers up into her now and holyshitholyshitholyyy—

*

They don’t speak to each other for a week after it happens. Emma had gathered her clothes and Regina had told her that her jacket would be waiting for her when she returned to Snow’s apartment. She’d done the walk of shame like it was her job and she didn’t care.

A week later, Regina walks into the sheriff’s office and flicks the lock closed with a resolute sound that makes Emma look up from the incident report she’s writing. “Regina,” she says evenly.

“Ms. Swan,” Regina replies, and Emma watches her with wary eyes. “I have a proposal for you.”

And Emma smirks, because she knows that she’s got her.


End file.
